


A Study In Chocolate

by Tindomerelhloni



Series: A New Crack Addiction [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Time, Fluff and Crack, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Sexy Times, Smut, There is a special layer of hell for people like us
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 06:37:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4009639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tindomerelhloni/pseuds/Tindomerelhloni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes inserts bits of chocolate into his arse for a experiment and then requests John Watson's help in retrieving them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Study In Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> Pure crack that gained a life of its own and turned into emotional and hot sexy times.

The late afternoon sun was dancing across John’s face as he breathed in the rare silence of the flat. John held a steaming hot cup of tea in his left hand, while a book was spread across his lap. He tried to sip on his tea but managed only to burn his tongue instead. Setting the tea on the table beside him, he spread the book open more and thumbed through the pages to find his spot. After managing a few pages without any interruption from his flatmate John decided to be brave. He picked up his tea and took a sip while reading. He hadn’t even swallowed his first taste of tea before Sherlock’s voice shattered the silence, causing John to spill tea all down his lap and onto his book.

“Christ! There’s another library book I own.” John sighed and tried to shake as much tea off the pages as he could.

Sherlock’s voice rang out once again, “John!”

“What is it Sherlock? I’m busy!” John didn’t feel like dealing with Sherlock and everything that came with him right now. He needed to dry off these pages before they stuck together.

In a blur of deep purple and a level of frustration that only Sherlock Holmes could achieve, the consulting detective stormed out from the private confines of his bedroom, stopping just inside the threshold of the sitting room. His body was rigid with tension, hands clenched at his sides to the point indentations from his fingernails were sure to be imprinted upon his pale palms. His face however showed a different emotion, one of concern and, if one looked hard enough, embarrassment.

“John, didn’t you hear me?”

“Mmm. Yes. I heard you.” John raised an eyebrow expectantly at Sherlock.

Sherlock’s face scrunched up, his stormy eyes glaring daggers at his flatmate, “Then why are you still just sitting there? When I call you I expect you to come. Not lay around sipping your tea and”, Sherlock paused to observe the, now damp, novel John held in his hands, “reading a romance novel about forbidden feelings between two poorly written characters with an even more appalling backdrop of a story.”   

“I…” John opened his mouth to defend himself but then thought better of it. He chose to deal directly with the problem, and hopefully, if he was very lucky, Sherlock would go away just as quickly as he had entered. “What did you do this time, Sherlock? Did you ruin one of Mrs. Hudson’s blouses in an experiment, or poison Mrs. Turner’s cat again?”

Sherlock looked slightly sheepish at John’s last insinuation and mumbled something about the poison being an accident and how it wasn’t even enough to do any sort of lasting harm, except maybe a few rounds of rectal discharge. He didn’t comment on the destruction of Mrs. Hudson’s blouse however. Gathering his wits back together rather quickly, Sherlock returned his gaze back to John’s.

“I seemed to have misplaced a particular item that I was planning on indulging in later. A Hershey kiss to be specific.”

“Are you suggesting,” John breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “That you disturbed my rare moment of peace…. because of a bloody Hershey kiss?”

Sherlock huffed in annoyance, the beginnings of a full on strop surfacing, “Honestly John, do you honestly think I would bother you concerning a simple normal Hersey kiss? This one is highly important to an experiment I am conducting, one that could very well assist in solving future murders,” Sherlock took a moment to calm himself before continuing, “Also, if you would let me finish my explanation it would all make sense as to why I require your assistance.”  

“A murder… with a Hershey kiss? How… Never mind,” John scrubbed his hand over his face and placed his book across the armrest of his chair, “how can I help you, Sherlock? I’m assuming the faster I help, the faster you go away.”

Sherlock ignored John’s last comment and continued on like the past few minutes hadn’t even occurred. “The Hershey kiss that I misplaced was fortunately found before its consistency was altered to the point it would of become worthless. I proceeded with my experiment, and gathered all the necessary data desired without incident,” at this point, Sherlock started to fidget slightly, the tips of his fingers tugging at the cuffs of his dress shirt, “however I seem to have run into an issue pertaining to the closure of my experiment.”   

“What kind of issue, Sherlock?” John was now reaching for the towel in the kitchen attempting to dry his trousers off. “What kind of issue would you need my assistance with? Normally you wont let me near your experiments.”

Sherlock continued to face forward, his back to John, refusing to meet his eye. “I may of miscalculated certain aspects of the physical application of the experiment. Namely the Hershey kiss I was using is now stuck up my arse and I need you to retrieve it.”

John blinked in disbelief for a few moments before turning to face Sherlock’s back. He could have sworn that he had just heard Sherlock mention shoving a Hershey kiss up his arse. 

“Sherlock, is this… your idea of a joke? Are you trying to be funny? Or have you been researching sarcasm?”

At this point, Sherlock spun around and faced John with a look of complete annoyance. “John, how many times have I ever participated in a joke, both of my own doing or incorporated by someone else? Also, the understanding of sarcasm is a complete waste of space and would in no way assist me on cases,” Sherlock took a few steps forward, enough to completely invade John’s personal space, “Now I need your expertise in the removal of the foreign object lodged inside my body because I can not very well do it myself. Will you or will you not help me?”       

"So... You're in fact saying... That you need my help removing melted chocolate from... From your..." John faltered for words, unable to bring himself to say arse, rectum or even butt. He rolled his eyes slightly before shifting on his feet, both from the close proximity of Sherlock’s tall frame and the awkwardness of the situation. “Yes, of course I’ll help. But I might blog about this. It’s only fair.”

If looks could kill, the one Sherlock was currently giving John would of caused him to keel over ten fold. “Keep in mind I can very well murder you and get away with it if you are ever so inclined to tell _anyone_ of what transpires here tonight.”

“Murder me, perhaps. But remove chocolate from your arse… apparently not.” John let out a little bit of laughter and looked Sherlock over from head to toe. “So… Er, how do you suggest we go about this?”

Sherlock twirled around with a flick of his wrist at John’s question, before strolling back into the sitting room. “You’re the doctor. Isn’t it the doctor’s job to figure out how to treat the patient?”

John took a few steps into the sitting room before stopping and looking at Sherlock. He tried hard not to think about what he was about to do. He was a doctor, he would be professional about this. “How much chocolate are we talking? Is it just one small Hershey kiss, or… multiple?” He moved through the sitting room and stopped at the door that lead into the hall, about to go upstairs to retrieve his medical kit. With one hand on the doorframe he turned back to Sherlock. "Christ. I.. Can't, yeah can't believe I'm about to ask this. By what means," he stopped and cleared his throat, "did said chocolate get, er, lodged in your arse?"

Sherlock flopped himself unceremoniously down upon their sofa, his hands becoming steepled underneath his chin. “One or two and please do at least try and act more intelligent than the rest of London’s populous. I put them in there myself. How else do you think they would have gotten lodged inside?”

“Yes… But _how_. Your hand… or.. another way?”

For a stretch of a few minutes, nothing but an awkward silence filled the flat. It was almost as if Sherlock was waging an inner war with himself, about if he should even tell John and how much detail to disclose. He finally settled on the most practical and appropriate answer.

“What does it matter John. They’re in there and now need to come out. Please stop wasting time and go retrieve whatever it is that you need before I develop some sort of infection. You know how unbearable I can be when I’m laid up for days. ”  

John rolled his eyes and huffed while turning to face the hall. Returning a few moments later with his medical kit he sat down on the coffee table facing Sherlock while rummaging through the kit.

“Right… so… Are they still in their wrappers? And yes, I need to know, because I need to know if I’m after just chocolate, or tiny pieces of foil.”

“Both.” Sherlock then suddenly leapt up from his prone position on the sofa, ending with him standing in front of John, looking down upon him expectantly. “How do you want me?”

John blinked and forced himself to look away from Sherlock’s groin. The vision of him teasingly undoing that glimmering belt buckle nearly made him blush. Quickly regaining his composure he looked up at Sherlock and licked his lips while looking around the room.

“Would it be too uncomfortable for you if I bent you over the table?” John realized too late what he said and stammered trying to regain control of the situation. “Not… like that or anything, just… Table, yeah. I’ll move the computers.” John stood, his front brushing against Sherlock’s body before Sherlock had the good grace to take a step back. He hurriedly started moving their laptops along with piles of books and papers.

While John was removing all of the offending articles that impeded their progress, Sherlock meticulously removed his belt, throwing it in the general direction of his leather chair. Then with a type of grace that only someone like him could achieve, swiftly threw himself upon the cleared desk, his weight resting on his forearms, not even bothering with the removal of the rest of his clothing.  

“Out of all of my patients, you would make me undress you… wouldn’t you?” John sighed and pulled the small chair they kept in the corner over to where Sherlock was. He tried not to stare, but he could have sworn that while his back had been turned Sherlock had stuck his arse in the air just a bit more than before. He placed his bag on the floor, reached in and pulled out some gloves. Pulling the gloves on he moved so he was standing directly behind Sherlock. He tried reaching around Sherlock’s hips without much physical contact, but found he had to press his lower half against Sherlock as he undid Sherlock’s trousers. “Can’t bloody believe you’re making me take your clothes off. This is how those rumors started, Sherlock. What if Mrs. Hudson, walked in? Or Lestrade!”

The corner of Sherlock’s mouth twitched upwards before he turned his head as much as his position would allow, his amused gaze resting upon John. "The fact that you are thinking about them walking in makes me wonder if you are actually hoping that they _do_ walk in."

By now Sherlock’s trousers were around his ankles and John pulled his pants down in one swift movement, trying hard not to think about what he was doing.  He turned away from Sherlock to hide the blush he could feel heating his face. Clearing his throat he muttered, “I’ll be right back, seemed to have left my petroleum jelly at work. I’ll have to improvise.” He left Sherlock with his trousers and pants around his ankles while he ran up to retrieve a bottle of lube from his bedroom. Before reentering the sitting room he took in a deep breath and told himself he wouldn’t stare at Sherlock’s arse. He walked in, head held high but all of his good intentions were thrown out the window when his eyes fell on Sherlock. Sherlock was pale, yes, but his arse… It was milky white, begging for bite marks. As he moved and his angle changed, his eyes fell across not only Sherlock’s arse, but to his bollocks. John couldn’t help but admire the way they hung so invitingly between his legs, as if they were asking to be touched.

 

Sherlock gently shook his arse back and forth, impatience slipping slightly into his tone when he spoke. “My lower body is starting to freeze. Would you kindly get on with it before my penis and testicles become unusable because of frostbite?”

 

“If you don’t stop being such a drama queen I’m going to accidently forget to use lube.”

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. His stance unconsciously widening as John stepped closer. “Don’t you doctors have some sort of oath that forbids you from harming your patients in any way? I seriously doubt you of all people would go against it.”

“Shut up.” John growled, “I’ll still do it, damn the rules.” John pulled chair up and sat down so his head was at the same level of Sherlock’s arse. “I need you to spread your arse for me. No, don’t snicker, just do as your told. I refuse to do this if you’re going to act like a five year old.”

“Could be argued that you are behaving like the five year old, not helping someone in need just because they snicker at a few remarks”, Sherlock reached back with one hand and maneuvered one of his arse cheeks to the side, his long fingers leaving impressions in his pearly white arse cheek,“Seriously John, how juvenile can you be.”   

“Says the man who stuck chocolate kisses up his arse for science. Christ.. I need napkins.” John quickly ran to retrieve a roll of paper towels before resuming his spot behind Sherlock. “Sherlock?”

An audible sigh escaped Sherlock’s lips, “What is it _now_ John?”

“Am I allowed to laugh at the fact that you have chocolate all along the inside of your pants?”

Sherlock was silent for a time before replying. “I suppose I could allow you such compensation in return for agreeing to finger me in the comfort of our sitting room.”

John let out a laugh that soon turned into a fit of giggles. “Right… so I guess it’s time I start.. what did you say, fingering you now?” Leaning down he tore off a piece of paper towel and grabbed the lube. Popping the top off he placed a liberal amount on his hand and took a deep breath in. With his clean hand he, as gently as he could, wiped away some of the melted chocolate. Once he was satisfied, he scooted the chair a little closer and gently started to work the lube into Sherlock’s chocolate covered hole. He tried not to think about how that hole would taste. He tried to be professional, but he failed miserably. All he could think about was burying his face in Sherlock’s arse. He cleared his throat and tried not to let his train of thoughts show in his voice. “I’m honestly very sorry if his hurts. It would be best if you tried to relax.”

Sherlock made a noncommittal noise from somewhere in the back of his throat. “Honestly, the only part that has even been remotely uncomfortable is your idiotic decision to use dry towels instead of a wet flannel.”  

“Would the _Queen_ like me to go get a warm wet flannel instead?”

“Would this whole thing go faster if you did not?”

“Yes, it would.”

Sherlock paused, his mind quickly settling on an answer, his fingers spreading his arse cheek even more. “I can tolerate it.”  

John nodded, then upon realizing that Sherlock couldn’t see his face he murmured his apologies. “Right… next time I’ll remember that. If there is a next time.” He hooked his fingers and blinked in surprise as they hit something. Pulling his fingers out he slapped Sherlock’s arse with his clean hand. “Only a few? A few what? Bags? There are at least five wrappers here.”

Sherlock fidgeted somewhat. “I may have miscalculated when it came to the conclusion of the exact amount.”  

Rolling his eyes John gently inserted his fingers into Sherlock’s hole again trying hard not to make a mess out of chocolate and shreds of wrappers. “Care to recalculate? I’d like a basic idea of how much chocolate Sherlock Holmes can fit up his arse.”

Another smirk graced Sherlock’s features as John worked. “Trying to calculate my circumference John? Collecting data to see if anything bigger than a semi sweet confection can fit up my arse?”

Grunting while scooping out another handful of wrappers and what John sincerely hoped was melted chocolate, “So what if I am? Maybe I have a notebook full of dirty things I’d like to do to you.”

A low moan escaped Sherlock’s lips as John retrieved some of the wrapped chocolate from the inside of his anus. His head hung low, the fingers currently gripping the side of his arse cheek tightening their hold. “If that is the case….I might just have to get you to show me exactly what these dirty things are…...by letting me read said notebook, of course.”

“If said notebook does exist, I promise you that you’ll never know it’s location.” John was now three fingers and nearly two knuckles deep into Sherlock. “You're positive that I’m not hurting you?”

Sherlock bit off another low moan, his forehead almost coming into contact with the high polished surface that was supporting most, if not all, of his current weight. “I’m positive John.”

"Alright, just making sure." After pulling out yet another handful of wrappers John let out a soft chuckle before catching himself and trying to cover it up by clearing his throat. Needing a slightly better angle John gripped Sherlock's hips with his right hand and attempted to reposition him. However he stopped short when his fingers brushed against something fleshy and hard. Mrs. Hudson also chose that incredibly awkward moment to walk into the flat carrying a tray of tea and nibbles. John felt himself immediately turn red and didn't know whether or not he should remove his fingers from Sherlock's arse.

"Errrmm... This isn't what it looks like." John was near panic, highly aware of the bottle of lube he had gripped between his knees.

Mrs. Hudson was busying herself with setting out the tea and biscuits she had brought up for her boys, only half paying attention to what was going on in the next room. “It’s not what dear?”

Not put out in the slightest by Mrs. Hudson’s sudden appearance into their flat, Sherlock answered her question before John could even consider formulating a response."John is implying that our current position isn't him trying to stimulate my prostate in a sexual manner in order for me to achieve orgasm."  

John wanted to hide, he wanted to suddenly disappear, but he was knuckle deep in Sherlock's arse and there was nothing in the universe that could help him now. He cleared his throat and hung his head, forcing himself not to look into the kitchen.

"Mrs. Hudson, if you would kindly not look in the sitting room, I promise Sherlock will pay next time you do your shopping."

Mrs. Hudson finished organizing the placement of the items she had brought with her, before turning around and making her way back out of the flat, blatantly observing John and Sherlock’s positions without so much as batting an eyelash. “Honestly, it isn’t any business of mine what you two boys get up to, though the offered payment towards my next shopping trip is highly appreciated John, thank you.”

Without another word, Mrs. Hudson made her leave, casually closing the door behind her as if she had not witnessed her two favorite tenants situated in the most compromising position two men could ever be found in. A heavy awkwardness settled into the flat of 221B. Well, more like a heavy awkwardness settled around John while Sherlock looked like he was calmly contemplating the best way to obtain one of the chocolate biscuits that were currently sitting astride a small china plate Mrs. Hudson had brought up along with their tea.    

"Stimulate your prostate? You do realize that you didn't have to say that. Not while I'm knuckle deep in your arse." As John talked Sherlock started fidgeting while eying the tray. "Um. No. I think you've had enough chocolate for one day. Now do sit still." John pulled at Sherlock’s hips until he was back in the correct position and resumed his task, trying hard to rid himself of the embarrassment. “Should have asked Mrs. Hudson to get me a warm damp flannel. Your arse is starting to look a bit red, for which I am sorry.” John slowly slipped his fingers out of Sherlock, pulled his gloves off and patted Sherlock on the arse.

“Be right back,” he stopped himself before he said ‘luv’ “Going to fetch one now.” On his way back into the sitting room he stopped and picked up the tray of food placing it next to Sherlock on the table.

The moment the tray was deposited next to Sherlock, the man himself snatched one of the larger biscuits off the small assorted pile of treats. As he began nibbling on one of the very few, if only, articles of food he would eat without severe prompting, he noticed how little his arousal had wavered from Mrs. Hudson’s sudden interruption. He soon found himself quite curious as to John’s state of desire and want, and if Mrs. Hudson’s appearance had tapered it at all and to what degree. Placing the half eaten biscuit back on the plate from which he snatched it from, Sherlock arched his back like a satisfied cat and turned his head, doing his best to get an inconspicuous, yet full view of John’s groin area.

From what Sherlock could ascertain, from the creases of the fabric around John’s genital area, from how he repositioned his stature when he sat back down and the degree of heat that still stained his delicious skin….Sherlock calculated the man was indeed aroused by the proceedings and that his erection had abated about twenty-five percent from full hardness. Sherlock couldn’t help the smirk that threatened to overtake the entirety of his features. John obviously didn’t appreciate Mrs. Hudson walking in on them, but he obviously wasn't completely averse to being discovered. Whether that added up to having an exhibition kink or not Sherlock wasn’t sure. He needed more data before he could come to a conclusion. He filed his findings away for possible future endeavors.     

John huffed as Sherlock arched his back, placed a hand on the thin man's spine and gently pressed down. “Sherlock, I asked you to stay still. Can you do that? Please, for me?” After a few seconds Sherlock straightened back out and John pulled the chair closer. After pulling on a new pair of gloves he picked up the flannel and gently rubbed at the irritated skin. Placing the flannel on the floor next to the discarded chocolate John reached for the bottle of lube. Popping the cap open he paused as a sudden urged rushed through him. It started as a tingle in his fingers, desire creeping through his body like wildfire. In one swift motion he closed the cap, placed it back between his knees, gently spread Sherlock’s arse and buried his tongue into Sherlock’s hole. After a second he realized that his action could very possibly be unwelcome. He waited for Sherlock to stand, to push him away, or absquatulate.

But to his surprise Sherlock was actually panting and pushing his hips back into his face. Gathering up a handful of arse in each hand John slowly started wiggling his tongue, completely unsure of what he was doing but thoroughly enjoying himself. If it hadn’t been for the added chocolate John though he might be put off by the idea of sticking his tongue in another man’s arse. But now he didn’t care, he was enjoying himself. Well, Sherlock’s self.

As he began to suck and nibble he became aware of the tightness in his pants and how his heart was beating just a tiny bit faster. This was the strangest and most intimate thing he had ever done with another person. It topped all the oddities that came with working alongside Sherlock, and anything he had ever done with any of his previous girlfriends. The feeling of Sherlock’s warmth on his tongue was enough to drive him mad. He tried pushing his tongue in further, but that only made the desire worse.

Sherlock meanwhile wasn’t fairing much better in the desire department. His breathing was coming out as ragged gasps, his head feeling like it was floating in a sea of pheromones. He wouldn't be surprised if he suddenly passed out. His face felt extremely hot, beads of sweat forming on his brow and threatening to cascade down his face, caressing his prominent cheekbones on their way to collide with the surface of the table below him. He felt his toes curling, his fingers doing their best to hold on to whatever purchase they could get. He was pushing back against John's face and there wasn't a part of him that cared. The only thing he was concerned with right now was getting John's tongue deeper inside him.

After a short while John had to pull back for breath. He chuckled when Sherlock’s shoulders sagged in disappointment and gently caressed the detectives milky white arse. Feeling a bit too clinical he tossed his gloves to the floor and sat back in his chair. “Sherlock, come here.” He patted his lap and smiled as the man turned around to face him.

With legs still shaking from the overload of pleasure still coursing through his veins, Sherlock maneuvered himself until he was straddling John’s lap and lowered himself until his naked groin rested flush against the rough fabric of the jeans John wore. He then buried his face against John’s neck, his hands gripping the blonde man's strong biceps with an almost brutal force. Sherlock was still having a difficult time catching his breath, but he somehow managed to string together a few syllables.

“You know…...in hindsight…...I should have made you at least buy me dinner before I let you stick your tongue up my arse."  

“I’ll buy you whatever you want for dinner.” John chuckled as he nuzzled his nose into Sherlock’s hair. “But first, I think…” his voice trailed off as he held Sherlock’s body close to his, stood with a little effort and carried Sherlock to the sofa. “I think I should make sure I got all the chocolate. If you don’t mind.”

Sherlock made a noise in the back of his throat that was something located between a moan and a sigh as John deposited him onto the sofa. For a man whose nerves had just been rattled by the best rim job ever, not that he had anything to compare it to really, he was able to situate his top half almost completely over the back of the couch with ease, his arse shoved unceremoniously outwards. He was practically begging John to, not only devourer his arse, but his entire being as well.

With a small laugh at the sight of his detective practically begging, John knelt behind Sherlock. He paused a moment to take in the sight. The man before him had never outwardly shown any emotions other than annoyance and excitement regarding cases. Now he was nearly wiggling his arse in the air, begging for more pleasure. He trailed his fingers across the alabaster skin, memorized the curve where Sherlock’s back met his arse then slowly trailed one finger down only stopping to replace his finger with his tongue.

John hummed at the feeling of his tongue on the gooseflesh that crawled over Sherlock’s skin. He kissed, licked, nibbled his way down Sherlock until he once again found his tongue hovering around Sherlock’s puckered hole. He opted for teasing this time. John slowly circled his tongue around and over Sherlock’s hole, making sure to hold his hips steady to prevent Sherlock from pushing himself onto his tongue. The moans and panting noises coming from the detective were pushing John into such a state of arousal that he’d never known before.

He knew it wasn’t possible for the human body to spontaneously combust, but Sherlock would swear later that he was almost positive that he was about to do just that. John was driving him crazy, circling his sensitive hole with that sweet wet tongue of his, but not actually pressing in like he truly wanted. Sherlock never begged for anything in his entire life, but he found the pleas for more escaping his lips before he could stop them.

“For the love of god John, please!”    

John pulled back and wiped his chin on his shoulder. “For a genius, you’re not being very clear. Please what?” He licked a finger and slowly inserted it, but only to right below the fingernail.

Sherlock’s features scrunched up in frustration as he tried to shove John’s finger deeper with his hips, but John’s vice like grip made it nearly impossible. A low and strained growl vibrated the consulting detective's vocal chords as his fingers gripped the leather sofa so hard his knuckles almost turned pasty white.

“Damn it John, please, for the love of god, do something other than teasing! Fuck me with your tongue, fingers, cock I don’t care! Please John, please!”   

“If you insist.” John added a second finger and pushed them in to the second knuckle. Leaning forward he added his tongue back into the mix and circled Sherlock’s hole to the best of his ability while scissoring with his fingers. He found the chestnut sized bulb that was Sherlock’s prostate and pressed the pads of his fingers into it. Had he not had such a tight grip on Sherlock he was sure the man would have bucked right off the sofa. He continued his slow and relentless assault on Sherlock by slowly circling his fingers around his prostate, never adding the pressure he knew Sherlock desired. When Sherlock’s quivering became too much he added a third finger and pulled his face up to speak.

“Tell me what it is you want. I can turn you into a puddle like this, or flip you over and watch your gorgeous face as I fuck you into oblivion.”

Sherlock didn’t believe it was possible, but he felt his entire body become even hotter at John’s words. He was so high strung, hanging on by nothing more than a small thread, that he was sure John could easily bring him off with a few more thrusts of his fingers. Something inside of him though wanted more. Sherlock wanted John all around him. He honestly would of panicked at the implications if he wasn’t so lost in the pleasure he was currently receiving.

Sherlock swallowed a few times before he was able to answer. “Inside. I want you…...inside me John. I want you to fuck me, own me. John…”

Christ, this experiment was going way beyond what Sherlock ever expected.     

John turned and eyed the bottle of lube, it was too far out of his reach. He stood, and was forced to adjust his erection before bending to retrieve the bottle. By now Sherlock was sitting properly on the sofa. John wordlessly handed the bottle to Sherlock and scooped him up in his arms, sighing when Sherlock’s thighs wrapped around his waist. His bedroom was upstairs, and while he was fairly strong he did not relish the idea of carrying Sherlock up all those stairs. So Sherlock’s bedroom it was. He made his way carefully through the flat and, with a little help from Sherlock, made it through the closed door that lead into the bedroom.

He carefully and tenderly deposited his prize down on the bed. As he knelt to join Sherlock on the bed a crinkling noise caught his attention. There under his knee on the bed were two bags of Hershey kisses.

“Why do I suddenly feel like this was the desired outcome all along, Sherlock?”

Just as Sherlock was about to answer John shut him up with a kiss. He was not prepared for such a kiss. Sherlock’s lips melted into his as if they were meant for each other. The hint of the chocolate biscuit was still in Sherlock’s mouth, and John felt as if he couldn’t ever look at chocolate again without being thoroughly aroused. He pulled away from the kiss abruptly and looked down at Sherlock.

“I.. am… so very,” John grabbed a handful of Sherlock’s shirt in each hand. “sick of these buttons tempting me.” With that he pulled at the shirt until purple buttons flew across the room.

Sherlock was momentarily startled when John had swooped down and kissed him. He quickly relaxed into it however, moving his lips against John’s fuller ones. He was even more shocked when John had pulled back and proceeded to rip his shirt asunder. He honestly didn’t bloody care about the now useless article of clothing, however he could never pass up an opportunity to rile John in anyway.

“You know that shirt cost a fortune, the one you so carelessly destroyed.”    

“Then I’ll mend it later while you suck my dick as a thank you.” John ran a hand down Sherlock’s now exposed torso and let out a slow breath. “You’re bloody gorgeous, you know that? Every inch of you. Including this.” He tapped Sherlock’s forehead and looked down at the detective. “Now, if you’ll be so kind as to hand that lube over. I’d like to test a theory.”

Sherlock could feel a blush ascend his cheeks at John’s unexpected compliment. He shyly averted his eyes before absentmindedly plucking at one of John’s many buttons decorating his shirt.

“Might be difficult to test with all your clothes still on……”  

John smiled his happy, crooked smile and let Sherlock slowly undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt. Once they were all undone he slipped out of the shirt and fumbled with his belt for a second before giving a small cry of conquest as the belt loosened in his grasp. He blundered with his trousers for a second before remembering how the zipper worked. He found himself half kneeling, half lying on the bed as he tried to rid himself of the rest of his clothing. After one full, embarrassing minute, he finally tossed his balled up clothing into the corner of the room. He was struck at how natural it felt, being fully naked in front of Sherlock. He wasn’t worried about being adequate. Rather, he was relieved to be utterly exposed to Sherlock.

“Now… if you would kindly hand over that lube…”

Sherlock’s attention quickly shifted to where the small bottle of lube was resting. When John has suddenly kissed him, he had carelessly thrown the container to the side. Thankfully it was still on the bed and not resting on the floor. He tried reaching for it, but discovered that he was unable to grasp the bottle in his current position. Twisting himself until he was mostly onto his stomach, Sherlock’s nimble fingers finally closed over the much desired item before he maneuvered himself back to his previous position. Sherlock then, almost tentatively, handed the bottle of lube over to John’s more experienced hands.

John's fingers brushed over Sherlock's hand as the bottle was handed over. He took Sherlock's hand in his and brought it to his lips. He kissed Sherlock's hand then carefully placed the lube beside them on the bed. He looked Sherlock in the eye before speaking, suddenly a little unsure of himself.

"Have you ever done this before, Sherlock?"

Greyish blue eyes looked a bit wary as Sherlock answered. “I have never been intimate with anyone before, physically or emotionally,” A quick glance away from John, then back again, and Sherlock tacked on a question of his own, “is that…...alright?”

"Of course, as long as you are 100% okay with this, Sherlock."

Sherlock gave a small smile before he uttered his next words, some of his nervousness dissipating at John’s words. “Believe it or not John, I have never been more sure of anything in my entire life.”

John leaned forward and captured Sherlock's lips with his. John's body was pressed flush against Sherlock's and he could feel every ripple and quiver that ran through the detective's body. He rutted his hips against Sherlock and let out a low moan as their erections touched.

"Then as long as you are sure, I promise I'll be gentle. At least until you beg me to fuck you like I mean it."

John sat back up, picked up the bottle of lube and once again squeezed a small amount onto his hands. He carefully applied some to Sherlock's entrance and let two fingers sink in. Once he felt Sherlock was ready he rubbed the rest of the lube onto his throbbing prick. He picked up each of Sherlock's legs and hooked his knees up over his shoulders and adjusted his position slightly.

He locked eyes with Sherlock, wrapped one hand around Sherlock's legs, and with the other he slowly started rubbing his prick against Sherlock. He started at his perineum and teasingly rubbed past his hole and back down. It wasn't until Sherlock was letting out little huffs of frustration that he finally showed pity on the man. He pushed forward and it took all his strength to keep himself from pushing all the way in. He watched Sherlock for any signs of discomfort or pain and at the first sign of Sherlock's discomfort he stilled.

"I'm sorry, Luv. Just relax. I'll let you do the rest, when you're ready." As he talked he rubbed small circles on the quivering leg he held against his chest.

 

There had been a twinge of pain at the base of Sherlock’s spine when John first started to breach the entrance of his lower body, but the pain was quickly overpowered by the mere realization that John Hamish Watson was finally inside of him, that he was finally sharing this aspect of his life with Sherlock. Slowly, Sherlock removed his right leg from its perch upon John’s shoulder and wrapped it around the older man’s middle. With a slow inhale, and a fleeting thought that this really was the only man he wanted to share his entire life with, Sherlock snapped his hips upwards while simultaneously shoving John forward with the leg securely wrapped around his midsection.

The pain from being so forcefully penetrated hurt like nobody's business, but Sherlock was never one for waiting. Also, Sherlock wanted to feel every moment of pain, of contentment, of annoyance, every single moment of blissful euphoria that came with sharing yourself with someone. He bit his bottom lip as the pain slowly receded. He wanted the good with the bad because, even after the most difficult yet hurtful moment, he knew that there would be pleasure. As long as John Watson was with him, he would take everything.       

John never broke his gaze with Sherlock. He watched Sherlock's face go from pain to pleasure. He waited a few moments before grabbing hold of both of Sherlock's legs and giving a sort of test thrust with his hips. When Sherlock's eyes rolled into the back of his head, John knew he was ready. He let Sherlock's other leg down and wrapped it around his hips and leaned forward until his nose was inches above Sherlock's.

"Bloody gorgeous, you are." He pulled himself nearly out of Sherlock and, as he pushed back in, he leaned forward the remaining inches and pressed his lips against Sherlock's. He let out a low moan into Sherlock's mouth as he slowly sunk deeper and deeper. He was torn between making slow passionate love to his detective or crazy almost animalistic sex.  As this was Sherlock's first time he decided to go slow, to show the man what he had been missing, and what his future held.

John lost himself in the moment, in the passion he was sharing with the man he never dared to love. He knew in that moment his life would never be the same. That he would never want it to be the same. As their bodies moved together as one John pressed his cheek to the side of Sherlock's face and slowly started singing. It started as a whisper and slowly grew in volume.

 

_"Wise men say, only fools rush in._

_But I can't help falling in love with you._

_Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?_

_If I can't help falling in love with you._

_Like a river flows surely to the sea_

_Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be._

_Take my hand, take my whole life too,_

_For I can't help falling in love with you."_

 

Sherlock was about to ask what the bloody hell John was doing singing, but his voice caught in his throat when he heard John utter the second phrase. If they were in any other position than the one they were currently occupying together, Sherlock would had reprimanded him for such words. However, something inside of Sherlock, a part of himself that he usually refused to listen to or even acknowledge existed, told him to stop questioning. This part of Sherlock told him that, even though high levels of dopamine and endorphins were firing off at rapid speed in both of their bodies, John would never say anything he did not mean. Regardless of Sherlock’s insecurities, John would never hurt him in such a way.

Arms clung harder and legs wrapped tighter as John continued to thrust ever so gently, his voice still ghosting over Sherlock ear. Later, the young detective would swear he tried his damnable hardest, but large, think tears burrowed themselves out from underneath his lids and began leaving trails of wetness down his cheeks. Some landed on their joined bodies, mixing with the salty sweat that coated their skin, while others found solace on the silk sheets that covered the bed below.      

John rested himself on his elbows and cupped Sherlock's face in his hands, brushing away the few remaining tears with his thumbs. He nuzzled his nose against Sherlock's and planted feather light kisses on his face. He was so close to his undoing, but he didn't want this moment to end. He memorized Sherlock's face, and caught every gasping breath with his mouth while whispering sweet nothings in his lover's ear.

"Can you cum like this, or do you need more, luv?"

Sherlock could feel himself letting loose small high-pitched whines every time John’s pelvis became flushed with his own. He honestly wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to achieve his orgasm without some external stimulation. That notion went out the proverbial window however, when one of John’s thrusts hit Sherlock’s prostate direct center.

“John! Oh god John, yes! Right there, keep going right there! John, John, John!"

He could feel his release start low in his abdomen before radiating out in all directions, engulfing his entire being. He felt a high that even the most potent cut of cocaine never gave him. Sherlock felt like he was hovering above the bed and crash landing at the same time. He felt bliss, he felt rapturous, but most importantly, for the first time in his life, Sherlock Holmes felt truly loved.   

As Sherlock tightened around him John gave his hips one final snap. As he came deep inside Sherlock he kissed every inch of the man's face. Never before had a union between two people been more beautiful. Sherlock Holmes was completely and totally undone in his arms. He was sweating, his hair matted to his forehead, his mouth was moving but no sound was coming out.  John wanted to capture this moment and bottle it up. He knew he would always remember this moment.

"Sherlock, you were fantastic. Completely and utterly fantastic." John brushed the hair away from Sherlock's forehead and gently caressed his face. As he softened he slipped out of Sherlock and, before he allowed himself to collapse on the bed, he offered Sherlock one more kiss before pushing himself up off the bed. He returned from the bathroom a moment later with a wet flannel and gently cleaned Sherlock off. He halfheartedly threw the flannel in the direction of the hamper and then finally allowed himself to fall on the bed next to his beloved detective. He didn't speak, instead he just gathered Sherlock up in his arms and pulled him to his chest while humming the tune he had sung earlier.

Sherlock was just about to tip over the line that separated wakefulness and sleep, the after effects of a strong orgasm and John’s soothing humming speeding up the process, when his brain quickly switched back online.

“John?”   

John opened a sleepy eye and nuzzled his head against Sherlock

"Mmm?"

“There...there is something that I think I should tell you. Something that I did not say while we were physically engaged, but I feel like I should have.”

"What's that, luv?"

Sherlock slowly raised his head until he was able to see John’s relaxed and slightly tired eyes. He took a deep breath, before unconsciously clinging tighter to the body that was currently tangled up with his own, and spoke though his voice was so low he was unsure if John would even hear it.

“I love you.”

John wrapped his arms even tighter around Sherlock and fought for the perfect words.

"I love you too." John rubbed his hand along Sherlock's back. "You big idiot. Something tells me this was the plan all along."

In response, Sherlock merely buried his head back into John’s chest, carefully listening to the frequency and deep thrum of John’s heartbeat, knowing that when he awoke before the sun even had a chance to fully bathe the city in its light, John would still be there. After all, if digging chocolate out of your flatmate turned romantic partner’s arse hadn’t caused John to vacate the premises, Sherlock was sure that nothing would.    

 

 


End file.
